


Istar the dark

by Haikuofmytears



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Drama, Fantasy, Gen, Half-Human, Headcanon, Istar, Krynn (Dragonlance), Original Character(s), POV Female Character, Random & Short, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 15:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19201504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haikuofmytears/pseuds/Haikuofmytears
Summary: An old entry originally made to be a roleplay prompt, inspired by the events during the time of Beldinas the Lightbringer in Dragonlance's Istar.This is a tiny glimpse of the unwanted creatures and the hunt that had gone on for them.





	Istar the dark

Istar the Beautiful; a glorious city where the whitewashed buildings reflect the glory of the sun, lighting everything in its path. The lovely weather and the scenes that bards sing about, that artists paint in canvasses that would last beyond their years. Istar the Mighty, seat of the Kingpriest and all that was good he represented. The Divine Hammer, the Solamnic Knights, the Clerics of Mishakal. What can one who served Paladin have asked for in a god-touched place?

Istar the Murdering Tyrant. The order had been given, for Beldinas had ordered war against the gods of evil and neutrality. Words flew to every corner of Ansalon; destroy those that lift gods of a different color, a different belief, a different name. Those of a race different from what was know was branded as unnatural, evil. It was with this that her Fate changed from the simple life she had known to this: cowering in the corner of the cart, bound hand and foot while the village men led her to Istar to be sold as a slave or worse. Istar the beautiful, the mighty? No, Istar the deadly. 

“She is a halfblood! Kill her!” She stirred from her unconsciousness to hear those damning words. She who was the village’s healer and singer before the Lightbringer decreed that her kind was abomination. It had come without warning as the village chief came, dragging her out of her bed in naught but her sleeping shift to be handed to the traders. “No. She shall be taken to the city.  The kingpriest shall bless us for surrendering her.” They all had agreed. 

"Lorelai...Lorelai...” 

She stirred at the voice, lifting her face towards it like a thirsting man would to a drop of rain. Her head had been hooded like a cat to be led astray, only able to hear the faint whimpers and sobs of a few others that joined her exile. She couldn’t even bring herself to speak with them. “Elir-Sana” she whispered, unable to keep her tears. “Forgive me…” the cart had slowed, arguments heard from the traders about Solamnics seen ahead in the next village. They who remained loyal only for the need not to have war on both ends of their lands mustn’t know of what the traders dealt in. “Elir-Sana… “

The caravan halted near the village, the slavers roughly waking their prisoners with loud smacks of the butt of their spear against the bars of their cages and dousing them with water. They all woke, confused and in fear still, including her. She who was perhaps one of those that had been tied up especially for having something that was close to magic in their souls. She let out a loud gasp, trussed up still, unable to see anything even as they were all nudged like so much animals for slaughter, voices dancing in her head, pleading, sobbing, angry. Foremost were the voices of their jailers. “Quiet, or we’ll gut you right here!” yelled one, which was enough to still even her chattering, followed by an angry conversation between their captors. 

“ I heard there was a knight in that village. “

“It’s one knight. And the Solamnics know better than to go against the word of the Lightbringer.”

“We can’t be too sure."

“What do we do with the merchandise."

“We keep them quiet. Knock them out."

Those words were followed by more pleading, before one by one those had faded to pained grunts, Lorelai flinching each time. Finally she was dragged by her bindings, letting out a mewl of pain as she was dragged among those who were unconscious. No…

“please help…”

“no false god would help you now, half breed bitch.”

Help us! By everything that is good, I beg you, help us!

Hope in the glorious land of Istar. Hope; the greatest of all evils clothed in light.


End file.
